


My Blood Runs Red, But My Body Feels So Cold

by camwolfe



Series: The Water Can't Drown Me [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4187256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camwolfe/pseuds/camwolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are getting better. Slowly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Blood Runs Red, But My Body Feels So Cold

**Author's Note:**

> [these are the sticky gel hands in question](https://www.google.ca/search?q=sticky+elastic+gel+hand&espv=2&biw=1366&bih=643&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=OnCIVYTSPMiSoQTproXwAw&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ#imgrc=xuvzLcWGnMNtgM%253A%3Bfu5egRNCtAeGKM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fs7.orientaltrading.com%252Fis%252Fimage%252FOrientalTrading%252F39_1649b%253F%2524VIEWER_ZOOM%2524%2526%2524NOWA%2524%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.orientaltrading.com%252Fglitter-sticky-hands-a2-39_1649.fltr%3B1500%3B1500m)
> 
> Also, this fic won't make sense if you haven't read the others!
> 
> Title from "Organs" by Of Monsters and Men.

The doctor’s office was loud.

There were children running around shouting at each other and then pausing to cough. Steve sat in the plastic chair in the waiting room and stared at the dull grey carpet in front of him.

At some point they called Steve in. At least, Steve assumed they did, because Bucky was suddenly pulling him up and leading him into one of the exam rooms. There they sat on more plastic chairs for another hour and a half.

Steve tried not to fall asleep again. He felt like the world around him was moving much too quickly, but he himself was stuck in a bubble where time moved much too slowly.

Bucky was leaning against his shoulder, probably nearly asleep himself.

The doctor came in after they’d been waiting for two hours. He introduced himself to Steve, who managed a “hello” in return. After that, the doctor and Bucky walked while Steve sat and tried to follow the conversation.

He couldn’t. He was too tired.

The doctor talked at length about “major depressive disorder,” and handed Bucky a bunch of pamphlets and sheets of paper. He also tried to hand Steve a prescription for some medication, but Steve stared blurrily at his hand until Bucky reached out and took it instead.

They went straight to the pharmacy after the appointment. Something happened with Steve’s insurance, and Bucky ended up getting into a long argument with the pharmacists, then the insurance company, and then the pharmacists again. Steve sat in a chair in the corner and stared at the floor, sandwiched in between an elderly woman and a middle-aged man who kept coughing in Steve’s ear.

Bucky must have won the argument, because eventually he came back over and took Steve’s hand again. He dragged him out of the pharmacy.

The ride home was quiet. Bucky looked exhausted, and Steve was more drained than he had even thought possible.

Steve headed straight upstairs when they got home, pausing only to lethargically scratch Sergeant’s head. Steve crawled back into his bed, closing his eyes.

The bedroom door opened a while later.

“Hey,” Bucky said tiredly. “Dinner.”

He set a bowl of macaroni down on Steve’s bedside table and a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbled. He made himself sit up. “I could’ve come downstairs. You don’t need to bring me everything.”

Bucky gave him a look. “Really?”

Okay, admittedly Steve hadn’t gone downstairs to eat dinner in weeks.

Bucky sighed. He held out the pill bottle that they’d picked up today. “Come on, one of these and half of that macaroni and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Steve didn’t want Bucky to leave him alone, but he didn’t know how to say that without sounding even more desperate and needy than he already was.

He took the pill Bucky handed him and swallowed it before he started to pick at the macaroni. He knew he should eat, but he just wasn’t hungry.

“It’s not gonna work right away,” Bucky said. “The doctor said that it would take at least a week for you to start feeling it, and then up to six weeks before it works completely.”

“Okay,” Steve said.

Bucky sighed again and flopped back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his face. He was still wearing his work clothes.

“Your appointment with the psychologist is tomorrow afternoon,” he said, still covering his face. “I’ll leave work early and pick you up.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “Thanks.”

“Mmm,” Bucky said. His breathing was already starting to slow.

By the time Steve had finished most of his macaroni, Bucky was sound asleep, still sprawled out in his clothes.

Steve left his bowl on the nightstand and got up, turning the bedroom light off. He tugged the covers out from under Bucky and then gently hauled him up so that his head was on the pillow.

“No…” Bucky mumbled. “I gotta… the dishes, and the laundry…”

“The dishes can wait,” Steve said. Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes already closing again.

Steve curled up beside him, his own eyes growing heavy. Sergeant jumped up onto the bed with a huff, settling down on Steve’s feet.

 

Steve didn’t feel any different the next morning. He was a little disappointed. Yeah, he knew that the medication wouldn’t have started working yet, but he’d been kind of hoping that he’d feel different _somehow_.

He wanted to shower before Bucky came home from work, but that would take so much effort. He did manage to change his clothes, which he counted as an achievement for that day. And yes, he knew how pathetic that was.

Bucky came home from work and drove Steve to the psychologist’s office, dropping him off at the curb outside.

“I’m gonna go get groceries or something,” he called out the window. “I’ll meet you back here in an hour, okay?”

Steve nodded and headed inside.

 

Bucky didn’t go get groceries. He parked in the lot just outside the building, turned the car off, and started to cry.

He sobbed for about half an hour, bracing his forehead on the steering wheel. Then he called Natasha, got out of the car, and sat on the curb and cried while Natasha quietly talked to him through the phone.

Finally, ten minutes before he had to pick Steve up, he got himself together. He took a few deep breaths, scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, and got back into the car.

 

“Hey!” he said brightly when Steve got into the car. “How’d it go?”

Steve put his seatbelt on and leaned his head against the window.

“It was okay,” he said, his voice flat and monotonous like it always was these days.

“What’d you talk about?” Bucky asked as they pulled out of the parking lot. “Wait, no, you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said. There was absolutely no inflection in his words at all, but that was normal now. “Um, he asked me a bunch of questions about my life, and then more questions about my family and relatives and stuff. Family history.”

“That sounds alright,” Bucky said. “It doesn’t sound like it was too bad.”

“Yeah,” Steve said distantly. He closed his eyes.

“So your next appointment is on Thursday?” Bucky asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah.”

“What time?”

“Three.”

Bucky sighed. He was going to have to leave work early again on that day.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled.

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky said hurriedly. “It’s good, I’m glad you’re going.”

Steve was quiet again.

 

Steve went straight upstairs when they got home, just like always. Bucky sat at the table for a while with his head in his hands before he got up again.

He put a pot of water on the stove for dinner and then went to do some laundry. He had to do both his and Steve’s, because Steve couldn’t do it. He also refilled Sergeant’s water and food bowls.

He brought Steve some pasta for dinner and handed him his medication for the day. He was under strict instructions not to give Steve the bottle, and to keep it away from him. Bucky had hidden it under the sink where they kept the cleaning supplies, because there approximately zero chance of Steve doing chores any time soon.

Bucky ate his own dinner sitting alone at the table. He did the dishes and then took Sergeant for his walk. He checked in on Steve when he got back, but Steve was still curled up in bed.

He had to pay their electricity and water bills that evening, and by the time he was done it was already way too late for him to get enough sleep for tomorrow.

Bucky changed into his pajamas and collapsed into bed next to Steve.

 

His alarm went off at six. Bucky groaned and turned it off, blinking sluggishly in the dark. Steve didn’t move.

He showered and got dressed. He made himself breakfast and then brought some upstairs for Steve, even though he probably wouldn’t eat it. He let Sergeant out and packed his lunch for the day.

He was at work by eight, and he ended up staying until almost seven. He was behind on pretty much everything, and no matter how late he stayed he couldn’t seem to catch up.

He had to stop for groceries on the way home. By the time he got home, it was almost eight.

Bucky made dinner. He brought some upstairs to Steve. He took Sergeant for a walk. He did the dishes. He paid their monthly car payment.

By the time he was finished every daily chore, it was almost midnight. He had to get up at six again the next day. He was so, so tired.

 

“We’re going to be late,” Bucky said.

“I know,” Steve mumbled. He was tying up his shoe at an impressively slow pace.

“Steve, I left work two hours early because I knew this was going to take a while. I’m going to have to stay at least three hours late tomorrow.”

“I’m trying,” Steve said.

“Try harder,” Bucky snapped, and immediately regretted it.

He went out to the car and let his head thump against the seat. He closed his eyes.

Steve got in a minute later.

“Sorry,” Steve said quietly. “I know… I know you came home early to pick me up. I should have been ready to go.”

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just tired.”

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled again.

 

Twenty minutes later, Bucky was sitting in his car on the phone with Natasha, trying not to start crying again.

“Okay, enough,” she said abruptly. “Come over.”

“I can’t,” Bucky said. “I have to pick Steve up at four.”

“Clint’s off at work soon. He’ll pick him up.”

Bucky scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “Nat, I can’t, I…”

“I’ll see you in twenty minutes,” she said, and hung up the phone.

 

Bucky knocked on her apartment door twenty minutes later. He leaned his forehead against the door while he waited.

“You look terrible,” Natasha said when she opened the door. “You’re pale.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said.

Natasha rolled her eyes and waved him inside.

“You’re sure Clint’s going to be there to pick Steve up?” Bucky asked. He was already pulling his phone out of his pocket to text Steve.

“Yes,” Natasha said. She snatched the phone out of Bucky’s hand.

“Hey,” Bucky protested. “I need that.”

“No, you don’t,” Natasha said. “Do you want pizza? I’m going to order some.”

“No, I do need it,” Bucky said. He followed her around the kitchen as she nimbly kept out of his reach.

“Why?” Natasha asked innocently. “Steve’s fine. Clint will pick him up.”

“He won’t eat dinner unless someone makes him.”

“Clint’ll do it. He can stay over there tonight. You can stay here.”

“No, no, I can’t,” Bucky said, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. He stopped chasing Natasha and leaned against the counter. “Clint doesn’t know how to do everything.”

“I think he can handle it for one night.”

“No, no he can’t,” Bucky said, and gripped the counter more tightly. “I need to get home, Nat. I have to make sure Steve takes his meds, I have to make sure he eats. I need to take the dog for a walk, I have to pay my credit card bill – “

“Woah, hey,” Natasha said warily. She was still holding his phone. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to Clint, he’ll handle it.”

“He won’t do it right!”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure he – “

“He doesn’t _know_ ,” Bucky said. He could feel himself started to panic. “He has to hide Steve’s meds after he gives him one, and if Steve gets up during the night he has to go and make sure he’s okay – “

Natasha stared at him. “What? Why?”

“Because he might use the pills try to and kill himself!” Bucky shouted. He braced his elbows on the counter and buried his head in his hands.

Natasha was quiet for a moment.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” she said finally.

“It’s that bad,” Bucky mumbled.

He felt Natasha’s hand on his shoulder after a moment.

“It’s alright,” she said quietly. “I’m gonna call Clint and talk to him, okay? Go sit down.”

Bucky stayed where he was for a moment, trying to get himself under control again. He eventually made his way over to the couch and slumped down, staring blankly at the muted television.

Natasha reappeared a few minutes later.

“Pizza’s on its way,” she said, sitting down next to him on the couch. “And I talked to Clint. He’s going to stay there tonight, okay? You can stay here.”

“But – “

“You need a break,” Natasha said firmly.

Bucky sighed. She was probably right. She usually was.

 

Natasha kept his phone hostage. The pizza came, and they ate it while watching some bad Netflix romcom.

“I should have done something earlier,” Bucky said abruptly.

Natasha paused the movie. “About Steve?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled.

“There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“There was!” Bucky protested, staring at the screen. “I should have seen it sooner.”

“You couldn’t have known – “

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Bucky said. “I wasn’t. I was so wrapped up in my own shit for so long and I didn’t notice him getting worse.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Natasha said gently.

Bucky groaned and put his head in his hands again. “Look, I know it’s not my fault that he got sick like this, okay? I know that. But I missed all the things that were happening, all the things that he was saying.”

“Like what?”

Bucky leaned back into the couch miserably. “Like… he would get really quiet sometimes. Really closed off. I thought that was just normal, right? Everyone has bad days like that. And he just lost his mom, I thought it was normal.”

“That _is_ normal.”

Bucky rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands. “Well, yeah, but… not in combination with all the other stuff. Like all the things he would say about himself, about how he didn’t deserve me and how no one wanted him around.”

Natasha’s face fell. “I never heard him say things like that.”

“That’s because he thinks you don’t like him.”

“What?” Natasha said indignantly. “Why would he think that?”

“Because he doesn’t understand why anyone would want to be friends with him.”

Natasha was starting to look upset. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’ve done to make him think that – “

“It’s not you,” Bucky said tiredly. “He thinks that of everyone. He thinks you and Clint only talk to him because you’re friends with me.”

“That’s not true!”

“ _I_ know it’s not,” Bucky said. “But he doesn’t. His thinking’s all screwed up.”

Natasha sighed.

Bucky closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch. “I didn’t even notice, Nat. I was so busy with work, and I was babysitting my siblings like three days a week at their house. Then he started med school and we saw each other even less.”

“That happens,” Natasha said. “People get busy – “

Bucky shook his head. “I missed it, Nat. He stopped laughing, he stopped talking to me about anything, he just came home and went to bed. And then I came home one day and he was just sitting on the couch, and when I asked him why he was home so early he said that he’d dropped out of school and wasn’t going to go back.”

Natasha frowned. “Was that the night you came over here?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled. “I didn’t know that he was… I didn’t know why he was acting like that, and why he wouldn’t talk to me. And then we got into a fight and I came here.”

“Sometimes you need space,” Natasha said reassuringly.

Bucky rubbed at his eyes again impatiently. He didn’t want to start crying again. “Nat, that fight was the last time he… the last time he actually cared enough to shout about anything. After that he just sort of turned off. He stopped talking, he stopped going to work, he stopped doing everything.”

“It’s not your fault,” Natasha repeated.

“I know it’s not!” Bucky nearly shouted. “I know it’s not my fault, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in so much pain and I can’t help him, Nat, I’ve tried everything and nothing helps – “

“You’re doing your best – “

“It’s not enough,” Bucky said, and yeah, he was crying again. “I’m so scared, Nat, he told me that he wants to die, and I’m terrified to leave him alone in the house but I can’t take time off work because we need the money because he _can’t_ work and – “

“Stop, stop,” Natasha said hurriedly. “Take a breath. That’s it. It’s going to be okay. You got him to the doctor, remember? The meds will help, and the therapist. It’s going to be fine.”

She gently ran her hand through his hair until he calmed himself down. He ended up falling asleep on the couch, and actually slept all the way through to the morning.

 

He went straight to work from Natasha’s place the next morning. By the time he got home from work late that evening, he was exhausted and also in desperate need of a shower.

Sergeant slammed into him the moment he opened the door, barking excitedly. After a few minutes of scratching his ears and saying hello, Bucky finally managed to get his shoes off and hang his coat up.

Steve was sitting on the couch in the living room, watching some documentary on the television.

“Hey,” Bucky said, trying to smile through his exhaustion.

“Hi,” Steve said. He didn’t smile, but that wasn’t unusual. “There’s leftover pizza in the fridge if you want it. I didn’t know when you’d be home…”

Bucky waved a hand at him. “No, it’s fine, thanks.”

He grabbed the pizza box from the fridge and put a few pieces on a plate. He tossed it into the microwave and leaned against the counter as he waited. He braced his elbows on the counter and let his head drop into his hands.

“Hey,” Steve said. Bucky looked up. Steve was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Bucky said brightly. “Just tired. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to pick you up yesterday.”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said haltingly. “I… Clint said that you needed a break.”

Bucky opened his mouth to deny it.

“It’s okay, I get it,” Steve mumbled. He stared at the floor in front of Bucky’s feet. “I just… Bucky, you don’t have to stay. I don’t want you to feel obligated – “

“Hey, no, that’s not it at all,” Bucky protested. The microwave beeped loudly, but he ignored it. “I don’t feel obligated. I’m just tired, Steve, really.”

Steve still didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Bucky said firmly. He stepped around Sergeant and walked over to pull Steve into a hug.

Steve sighed and let Bucky hug him. He rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to be a person that you have to take a break from,” Steve mumbled.

“Hey, I know you don’t,” Bucky said. He leaned back so he could look Steve in the eyes. “I wasn’t taking a break from you, okay? Just from… everything.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Are you coming upstairs soon?”

“Yeah, after I eat.”

“Okay,” Steve said. He disentangled himself from Bucky and wandered upstairs again.

Bucky sighed.

 

It took a week and four days for his meds to start working.

It wasn’t anything drastic. Steve just woke up one morning and felt… better. Not good, not by any stretch of the imagination, but a little better. He had a little more energy, his limbs weren’t as heavy, and the gaping hole in his chest wasn’t quite as painful.

Bucky had already left for work. Steve got out of bed and took a shower for the first time in… well, in what was probably much too long of a time. He even washed his hair.

He put on clean clothes once he got out, and then decided to change the sheets on his bed while he was at it. By the time he was finished that, he was already getting tired again.

He took another nap, and then lay there for a while after he woke up. The fog in his head had cleared a little, for the first time in… months, at least.

He was still tired, but he managed to get up and head downstairs in the evening. He didn’t feel up to making anything fancy, but he made some pasta with tomato sauce. It wasn’t anything memorable, but he added some cheese and he was kind of proud of it.

Bucky came home while he was sprinkling parmesan on top of the pasta.

“Hey,” Steve said. “You hungry?”

Bucky stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at him. “You made dinner?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I mean, if you want something else, that’s fine – “

“No, no,” Bucky said hastily. He kicked his shoes off, tossing his coat vaguely in the direction of the coat rack. “This is great, thank you.”

They even ate at the table. Bucky sleepily propped his head on his hand and watched Steve as they ate.

Steve normally didn’t have the energy or motivation to continue a conversation, let alone start one, but he felt like he could today.

“How was your day?” he asked.

Bucky blinked at him. “Uh, it was alright. Long. How was yours?”

“Well, I showered, so pretty good I guess.”

Bucky laughed. “Hey, it’s better than nothing. I think your hair is a different colour now than it was this morning.”

Steve winced. “It was that bad?”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “It was that bad.”

“Well, I even smell nice now,” Steve said. “I used that shampoo that Natasha left behind the last time she stayed here.”

Bucky laughed. “The fruity stuff? Why?”

Steve shrugged. “I like it better than that ‘rugged mountain’ shit that you use.”

“It’s supposed to make me smell like an adventurous mountain climber!”

Steve frowned. “Do adventurous mountain climbers smell good? I feel like you’d get really sweaty if you climbed a mountain.”

Bucky laughed. “It’s the idea of it. Here, give me your plate, I’ll do the dishes.”

“But you worked today,” Steve protested, even though he barely had the energy to keep sitting at the table.

“Too late,” Bucky called, already disappearing into the kitchen. “Besides, you made dinner.”

Steve gave up and dragged himself over to the couch. He turned on a random channel and let Sergeant jump up onto the couch with him.

Bucky reappeared a few minutes later and flopped down on the couch next to him. He leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“You feeling a little better today?” Bucky asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah, actually,” Steve said. “A little.”

Bucky smiled. “Good.”

 

It was slow. It was really slow progress, and Steve couldn’t help but feel frustrated. He was able to get up most mornings now, and he could get a few chores done during the day. He could make meals, he could take Sergeant for walks, and he even made it to grocery store a few times. He felt a lot better when he could do _something_ with his day, but it wasn’t anything like he’d been able to do before. Every time he thought about going back to work, panic wrapped itself around his stomach and throat. It got even worse when he thought about the possibility of going back to med school. He tried to explain the feeling to Bucky one evening, but it turned into a full-blown panic attack instead of a rational conversation like Steve wanted.

Bucky steadfastly insisted that it was fine, and that Steve should take as much time as they needed. Bucky’s salary was enough to cover their bills, but it wasn’t like they had a lot left over at the end of the month. It would be so much easier if Steve could work but he just… couldn’t bring himself to do it. He could spend all morning sitting on the edge of his bed willing himself to stand up, and it just wouldn’t happen.

It was fucking frustrating.

He was trying, though. He really was. He went to his therapist twice a week, and always left with an armful of worksheets and pamphlets. They were boring and often pretty patronizing, but Steve dutifully followed their instructions anyway.

“Steve!” Bucky called from the kitchen one afternoon. “Wanna take Sergeant down to the beach?”

Steve was curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets, staring blankly at the television. It was one of his worst days since he’d started his medication, and he just wanted to lie on the couch and mope.

“Uhhh,” he said, trying to buy himself some time.

Bucky wandered into the hallway, grabbing his coat off the rack. “It’s alright if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll feel better if I do,” Steve said slowly. “The fresh air and exercise will help.”

Bucky paused as he did up his jacket. “So… yes or no?”

Steve sighed and flopped down onto the couch again. “I don’t know. One of the things we talked about in my therapy session last week was this bullshit about ‘acting opposite.’ Like whenever you want to do something that you know won’t help you feel better, you should do the opposite thing even if you don’t want to.”

“Like going for a nice healthy walk even though all you want to do is lie on the couch and feel worse?” Bucky asked helpfully.

Steve scowled. “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Bucky said. “We’re going for a walk. Sergeant!”

Sergeant bounded down the stairs, his tail wagging excitedly. He jumped in circles around Bucky as he waited for Steve to get up.

Steve sat up and sighed. He just wanted to bury himself in his blankets and let himself be miserable.

Bucky picked up Steve’s shoes and tossed them at his head. Steve yelped and dodged as they thumped harmlessly onto the couch.

“Come on,” Bucky said. “The beach is waiting.”

Steve gave him a dry look as he pulled his shoes on. “The beach is not waiting. The beach does not care whether we walk on it or not.”

Bucky waved his hands mysteriously in front of his face. “Don’t you know? The beach is sentient. It’s _waiting_.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Okay, now that sounds like the beginning of a horror movie.”

“I’d watch it,” Bucky said as he tossed Steve his coat. “I’d call it ‘The Haunted Beach’ or something like that.”

“That’s really creative.”

“I know,” Bucky said. He opened the door, letting Sergeant bound outside excitedly. “I’m a creative guy.”

They locked the house behind them and made their way down the road, taking the long way down to the beach so that Sergeant could run. They walked down to the public parking lot and then took the stairs down from there, Sergeant leaping ahead.

Steve didn’t have the energy or motivation to walk quickly, so their pace was pretty slow. Bucky didn’t seem to mind. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his face turned up to the sun.

They made their way down to the water. Sergeant was running up and down the shoreline, stopping to sniff at patches of seaweed.

Bucky bent down and grabbed a rock from the beach, tossing it out into the waves. It disappeared into the water with a loud ‘plunk’.

Steve’s arms and legs still felt too heavy, but he tried to stay as present as he could. “How many times do you think you can skip that rock beside your left foot?”

Bucky picked it up and frowned at it. “Uh, none. The waves are too high. You can only skip rocks in calm water.”

“With that attitude, maybe,” Steve said. He grabbed another flat rock from the beach and spun it effortlessly towards the water. It just missed a wave that crashed onto the shore and skipped three times across the water.

Steve laughed and cheered. Bucky groaned.

“How’d you do that?” he asked. “Wait, let me try again.”

He grabbed another rock and tossed it at the water. It sunk with a dramatic splash.

Steve laughed. Bucky glared at him.

“You cheated,” Bucky said.

“How the hell do you cheat at skipping rocks?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said loftily. “But you’re doing it somehow.”

Steve grabbed another rock and threw it. This one skipped twice.

“It’s easy,” Steve said with a laugh. “You have to flick your wrist.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I have to flick my wrist? Thought I was already doing that,” he said, his voice filled with innuendo.

Steve groaned. “What does that even _mean_?”

Bucky cracked up. “I don’t know. It wasn’t my best.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He turned back to the water just in time to see Sergeant leap happily into the waves.

“No!” Bucky shouted. “Sergeant, come on! Aw, fuck.”

“He’s gonna need a bath,” Steve said.

Bucky groaned. “What if we just… don’t bathe him?”

“He’s gonna smell like seawater and wet dog for weeks?”

Bucky sighed. “Ugh.”

Steve whistled. Sergeant bounded out of the waves again, skidding on the sand as he ran up to where they were standing.

“Don’t shake,” Bucky said warningly. “Don’t you da-“

Sergeant shook his fur, sending water droplets flying everywhere. Bucky groaned again as saltwater covered his jacket and jeans.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Steve said innocently. “You’re the one who wanted to take him down to the beach.”

Bucky gave him a dark look. “Yeah, and you came along. Do you know what that means?”

“That I’m going to have to help bathe him?”

“Yup,” Bucky said solemnly. He led the way back down the beach towards their house. Sergeant leapt up the stairs beside them as they climbed back up the cliff.

“Okay,” Bucky said when they got to the porch. “Maybe we should dry him off out here first.”

Steve eyed Sergeant. Sergeant stared back and panted happily. “He’s soaked. It'll take forever.”

“He’s going to get salt water all over the floor!”

Steve laughed. “Since when do you care about the floor?”

“Since I started cleaning it,” Bucky grumbled. “It’s more work than it looks.”

“I told you,” Steve said. “Remember when you thought that you taking out the garbage was a fair exchange for me vacuuming the entire house?”

Bucky made a face at him as he unlocked the door. “Yeah, yeah. I was innocent and naïve.”

“Watch out, he’s going to – “ Steve tried to say, just as Sergeant bolted forward and slipped past Bucky into the house.

“No!” Bucky shouted, running in after him. Sergeant seemed to think that they were playing a game. Bucky chased him around the coffee table and then around the kitchen table, Sergeant making sure to always keep an object between them.

Steve was laughing so hard that he could barely shut the door behind them.

“Stop running,” Bucky pleaded as Sergeant dashed into the kitchen with Bucky close behind him. “Sergeant!”

Sergeant skidded around the house again. Steve dove forward just as he ran by and managed to wrangle Sergeant into his arms.

“Nice!” Bucky shouted. Sergeant barked and licked Steve’s face. “Come on, get him upstairs.”

“Jesus,” Steve gasped as he stumbled awkwardly up the stairs, his arms filled with dog. “Why the fuck is he so heavy?”

“Because he’s healthy now!” Bucky said triumphantly from the washroom. He’d already started the bathtub. “Because we’re good pet owners.”

Sergeant barked again and licked Steve’s face. Steve gently set him down on the washroom floor, keeping a firm hand on his collar as he tried to run away again.

“I don’t understand why he doesn’t like baths,” Bucky said, testing the water temperature with his hand. “He likes the ocean well enough.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like the shampoo,” Steve mused. He grabbed the puppy shampoo from under the sink. “It’s probably not manly enough for him.”

Bucky gave Steve a look. “Stop ragging on my shampoo.”

Steve laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m gonna lift him in.”

Between the two of them, they managed to wrangle Sergeant into the bath. Bucky scrubbed him down with the shampoo while Steve waited with the towels.

When they finally finished getting Sergeant clean and dried, Steve opened the door and let him run back out into the rest of the house.

“So?” Bucky said as he finished draining the water in the bathtub. “Glad you came on a walk?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” Steve said. “ _Maybe_ some of that therapy stuff is legit.”

“Just maybe, huh?” Bucky said.

“Yep. Just maybe.”

 

Steve had to grudgingly admit that it worked. There were days when all he wanted to do was curl up in his bedroom alone, but he _did_ feel better if he dragged himself downstairs and watched a movie with Bucky. Sometimes he called Clint if Bucky was at work, and the two of them would play video games and eat pizza until Steve felt himself starting to come out of it.

He started picking up a few shifts at work again. There was no way that he could work full time yet, but hopefully he would get there soon. As it stood, he worked shortened shifts two or three days a week. It gave him time to get enough to sleep and rest during the week, but at least he felt like he was contributing _something_ to the household now. It took away some of the guilt that he felt about letting Bucky take care of all their bills and groceries.

 

There wasn’t really one day where Steve felt like he was doing okay. Not cured, but definitely doing better. It was something silly that made him realize it.

Ethan had bought one of those sticky gel hand things at a dollar store. He became so irritating with it that Bucky confiscated it.

Of course, once they’d dropped Ethan and his sisters back at home, Bucky became the menace.

The sticky hand-shaped object had a long elastic end to it, meaning that the person holding it could flick it at an object to make the hand stick to it.

“Stop,” Steve said.

“Stop what?” Bucky said innocently. He was sitting in the passenger’s seat of the car as Steve drove. He flicked his wrist, and the hand shot out to land with a splat on the windshield again.

“That’s disgusting,” Steve said. “Look, it’s picking up all the dust.”

Bucky tugged at the end of the elastic that he was still holding, and the hand flew back to him. “I’m cleaning the windshield.”

“The inside of the windshield does not need to be clean!” Steve said, exasperated. The hand hit the window again with a splat.

“So clean,” Bucky said cheerfully.

“You’re distracting the driver.”

“You’re fine,” Bucky said dismissively. “Besides, if I really wanted to distract you I’d give you road head.”

Steve choked on air and had to cough a few times to clear his throat.

Bucky cracked up. “You had a way stronger reaction to that than I thought you would!”

“I was just surprised,” Steve said as they pulled into the grocery store parking lot.

“Mhm,” Bucky said with a smug smile as Steve parked the car. “Sure.”

“Surprised,” Steve repeated as he got out of the car.

“I think you’re into it,” Bucky mused as he shut the car door behind him. “I’d never do it while we were driving, obviously, but maybe when we get home – “

“Groceries!” Steve repeated, keeping his voice as level as he could. “We are getting groceries.”

Bucky laughed. Steve felt the gross sensation of the sticky gel hand hit the back of his neck.

“Are you kidding me?” Steve asked, turning around. “Give me that.”

Bucky darted around a parked car and took off across the parking lot. He had a head start, but he was laughing too hard to run properly. Steve caught him just before he reached the doors of the grocery store. They were still scuffling around in front of the store when an employee cleared her throat.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Steve said, letting Bucky go. Bucky ducked out from under his arm and disappeared into the store, still laughing.

Steve shook his head and followed him in, smiling despite himself.  

 

Steve grabbed a cart, and they started making their way through the aisles. Bucky would occasionally wander away and come back with his arms full of random items.

“Okay, which cereal do you want?” Steve asked, looking at the shelves filled with bright cereal boxes.

The sticky gel hand hit the box of Lucky Charms.

“That one,” Bucky said.

Steve gave him a look. “I can’t believe this.”

Bucky smirked. Steve sighed and grabbed the cereal box.

They made their way through the store, Bucky picking items by hitting them with the sticky hand. He cracked up every time Steve let out a pointed sigh.

They were just making their way into the cheese aisle when it happened.

“Do you want cheddar or swiss?” Steve asked, leaning on the handle of the cart.

“Swiss,” Bucky said, and flicked the sticky hand at it.

For the first time, he missed. It flew past the shelf and hit a woman in the face.

“What the hell?” the woman yelled, flinching away.

“Oh my god,” Bucky said, horrified. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

He ran over to continue to apologize to the woman, who just shook her head and finally walked away. Bucky slunk back over to where Steve was leaning against the cart.

“Take it,” Bucky mumbled, handing Steve the sticky hand. “I’m worse than Ethan. I’m worse than my twelve year old brother.”

Steve was laughing so hard that he could barely breathe. He had to pass the cart over to Bucky and sit down on the floor for a few minutes until he caught his breath.

“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing,” Bucky said irritably. “I’m glad my humiliation is so funny to you.”

“I told you to stop!” Steve said in between fits of laughter. “You hit her in the face!”

“It didn’t hurt her!”

Steve started laughing again. Bucky shook his head and started pushing the cart away.

“I’m going without you,” Bucky called. “I’m taking the groceries, too. Good luck making something for dinner.”

“I have the car keys!” Steve protested, jogging after him. “You can’t go without me.”

Bucky made a face. “Guess I’m stuck with you then.”

Steve stared at him. “Was that a pun about the sticky hand?”

Bucky smirked. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god.”

 

He didn’t really think about it until they got home and were putting all the groceries away. It occurred to him just how… light he felt. It didn’t feel like he was carrying a weight around on his shoulders anymore. He could let himself laugh and enjoy everything he had without feeling guilty about it. He hadn’t even thought about it when they’d left earlier that day, but he could go and do errands now. He could help Bucky pay for the groceries with his paycheck, and he wasn’t reliant on Bucky for everything anymore.

Steve was happy.

 

They went to Ethan’s soccer game the next day. It was cold, and Steve was pretty sure it was going to start snowing any day. They were sitting on the sidelines of the game, huddled under blankets.

Rebecca was sitting in a folding chair next to Bucky’s, typing something on her phone. Grace was kneeling in the chair next to Steve’s, watching him draw a picture for her.

One of the kids on Ethan’s team jogged by, pausing to wave at them.

“Hi, Bec,” he said shyly.

“Hi!” she said happily, waving back. The kid ran back to his team.

“Who was that?” Bucky asked, sprawled out in his folding chair.

“My boyfriend,” Rebecca said, already back on her phone.

Bucky nearly fell off his chair. Steve had to scramble to keep it upright.

“Your _boyfriend?”_ Bucky said indignantly.

“Yes.”

“You can’t have a boyfriend,” Bucky said. “You’re twelve.”

Rebecca tilted her chin up. “I can do whatever I want.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky said. Steve sighed and turned back to Grace, letting the siblings squabble.

“Add a dog!” Grace said eagerly, watching Steve draw the soccer game. “Make Sergeant a soccer player!”

“Okay,” Steve said. He started drawing Sergeant into the game.

“Make him wear a soccer outfit!”

“What position should he play?” Steve asked, obligingly drawing a soccer jersey onto Sergeant.

“Umm,” Grace said. “The one that Ethan plays!”

“Alright,” Steve said, finishing his drawing. The real Sergeant was curled up over his feet, watching the players run back and forth. Rebecca and Bucky were still arguing next to him, although they kept pausing to cheer Ethan on. Steve finished his drawing and handed it to Grace, who shrieked with joy and jumped down next to Sergeant to show him.

Steve settled back in his chair, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)


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